


In Search of a Boat (One-shot)

by YourLovelyMajesty



Category: Gears of War (Video Games), Gears of War - Fandom
Genre: Adventure, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:12:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourLovelyMajesty/pseuds/YourLovelyMajesty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Traveling on foot across Sera is a difficult and lonely life. No one understands solitude better than Bernadette Mataki but she's determined to return to Jacinto to fight the Locust and she's desperate enough to swim the whole way. Nothing can separate this sergeant from her Gears. Rated for mild language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Search of a Boat (One-shot)

It was the first town Bernie had seen in two months. She stood beside the river she'd followed and watched as people went about their life. The sound of conversation, laughter, and livestock was foreign to her now yet she reveled in the civility of it all.

Since she left Galangi, Bernie had put her survival skills to the test. Traveling across Sera, living off the land, was difficult and lonely, but she was strong, determined, and she wasn't going to let her brothers fight alone. She might be old but she was still a Gear.

Bernie stepped over the invisible boundary line of the town and only then did people begin to notice her. They stopped to stare; some with fear, some with contempt. She knew she looked like death warmed over —her graying hair tangled and matted with dirt and debris, her pants torn and her breastplate stained, with her two sniper rifles slung over each shoulder —but she held her head high. She wasn't here to hurt anyone or prove anything. She was a traveler. She was just looking for a boat.

Ignoring the women who pulled their children closer as she passed, Bernie found the heart of the town, and with it, a bar. _No better place for information and this old gal could use a drink,_ she thought, although she wasn't sure decent alcohol was still in production. She wasn't even sure her money was still good after the journey, but it never hurt to try.

She made her way inside to find the building brightly lit despite it's shabby appearance. A hush fell over the small crowd as she approached the counter. The suspicion was thick in the air and she wondered how often the town saw visitors.

She sat on a rickety stool and slid both guns off her shoulders, leaning them against the front of the counter. "Nice welcoming committee. Does everyone get the silent treatment?" she asked. She set her rucksack on her lap and smiled at the bartender. "Something strong, if you've got it."

At the mention of booze, the patrons seemed to sigh collectively and returned their attention to their own drinks. The bartender produced a glass of amber liquid while Bernie dug through her sack. Her wallet was starting to fall apart but she still had money for a drink. She was thankful it was still accepted in these areas; she didn't have anything to trade.

She set the bills on the counter, grabbed the glass, but stopped it from touching her lips as she warred with herself. _I could down it and have the brief satisfaction or I could draw this moment out, relish the first taste of booze in . . . hell, I don't even know anymore. It's been too long since I've had something I don't have to boil first —enjoy it._

Bernie took a sip and set the glass down, ignoring the urge that screamed to chug it, and enjoyed the burn that crawled down her throat. "Shit," she sighed.

"Too strong?" the bartender asked with a grin. He pushed the bills toward her. "I'll give you your money back as long as you don't puke on my counter."

"Actually, it's not strong enough. But it'll do."

He took the bills with a shrug, folded them and slipped them into his breast pocket. "Okay, how about we skip the niceties and get to the typical questions; you could say it's my duty to know a little something about everyone. So where do you come from? What brought you to Old Forge?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to get to Jacinto. There was a recall for all COG forces to fight the Locust invasion, but I was a little late to hear the news. Galangi was cut off from the mainland."

"Yeah, I'd heard about that. The Locust wiped out Kaia and everyone expects Galangi's next on their list."

Bernie took another pull. "Those damned things can't touch my island. It's on the other side of the abyssal trench —they can tunnel, but they can't fly. Guess you could say it's the safest place on Sera right now."

"Then why's a nice lady like you trying to jump into the fire?"

"Because when you're a Gear, you don't run away from the monsters. You shoot their bloody heads off or die trying."

He leaned on the counter, trying to size her up in a glance. "So you're really a Gear, huh? It's unusual to see COG forces out here in the island chain. They've been keeping to themselves a lot more, probably trying to cover their tracks. You sure you want to walk into all of that? You look a little past your prime, lady."

"I'm not 'past my prime'," she growled. "I'm the best sniper and survivalist expert they have, proud member of the 26th RTI, awarded the Sovereigns Medal after Aspho Field, and I'm not going to let some water stand between me and my men!"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Didn't mean to insult you, ma'am."

Bernie didn't miss the new respect in his voice. "No, you didn't." She sighed and drained the glass. "Sorry, it's been a while since I've had such nice company. Been traveling on foot for two months. You get in touch with a different side of yourself after so much solitude."

"Two months? Damn, you must be made of steel, although I guess being the COG's best survivalist expert would help. They must be something really special if you've been trying this long to get to the mainland."

She thought of her farm, of Neal and Moss, and Mick and his family. She was divorced now and Neal was running the farm; he'd probably moved in whatever harlot he'd been seeing after she left. _I deserve it. I was awful to him and he worked so hard to keep the farm and our relationship going. All I could think about was how I could get back to the frontlines faster._ And Mick, well, he'd been dead for some time. She never had the chance to apologize for all the things she said, she never got to meet her great-niece or any of the family Mick had.

Both men had tried, she realized that now. They tried to help her reconnect after her decommission, to feel at home, but they ended up pushing her further away. The army was always there for her; she forged bonds with humans she never thought possible. They didn't betray her, they didn't accuse her. They were strength and support and she couldn't let them down.

"They're all I have left," she said. "I've been serving for too long to ignore something like this. I admit that I'm getting old. This could be my last chance to fight and I'm not going out sitting on my arse."

He rested his elbows on the counter top and assessed her with the unique ability all bartenders seemed to have. It was as if they could strip away the physical shell, all the bullshit, and see the soul. They were cheap psychologists but damn good at it. It made Bernie uncomfortable but she wasn't going to show him that. She sat upright and tried not to glare at him, but to look him in the eye with the same certainty she'd given any of her men in the past.

"Trying to get to Jacinto, you'll need a boat," he said after a tense moment. "A buddy of mine has one. He's an old soul like you and mentioned he was heading toward the mainland. I think he'd be glad to give you a lift."

Bernie leaned forward with interest. "Yeah? Where can I find this friend?"

"From here, third house on the right. Tell him Jake sent you. If he gives you any trouble, remind him that he still has a tab."

"Thanks, Jake. You're a good man."

He shrugged and stood straight enough that Bernie would have guessed he was a Gear somewhere in his lifetime. "Just like to help where I can. I don't get to use my Ph.D much anymore."

She grinned and grabbed her weapons, throwing them over her shoulders. Bartenders weren't just useful little buggers, they were also sneaky. As she stepped back into the sun, Bernie was in higher spirits than ever. She had purpose, she had determination, and now she finally had a way to securely reach Jacinto. Another month and she would've swam. Looking out at the endless blue, though —calm, smooth as glass, and utterly deceiving —she knew it would take more than a month to get up the nerve to even get near it. It wasn't even humanly possible to swim that far; not even her need to be in the army could help her survive that.

Bernie knocked on the indicated shack and realized she never asked the bloke's name. Ah well, it was too late now. A portly man answered the door and his eyes grew large. She was used to the reaction now.

"Hi there," she said with a smile she hoped wasn't intimidating. "Name's Bernie. Your pal Jake said you have a boat that can get me to Jacinto. I'd like to discuss a price or maybe you'd rather waddle your way up to the bar and pay off that mounting tab right now."

The poor thing audibly gulped and opened the door wider. She may be getting old, but at least she still had her charm.


End file.
